The Letter & Other Oneshots
by ohxrosie
Summary: THE LETTER: Inspired by Hemingway, Rory attempts to write Jess a letter. For once words are not her forte. & SLEEP THERAPY: Rory's getting fed up, so she confronts Jess. Will he listen, or take the couch? A collection of one-shots, vaguely connected.
1. The Letter

Jess,

I've never written you a letter before. I know it's a terrible way to start this, but it's true. I wrote Dean letters about everything, from silly letters about silly things, to letters about crashed cars and broken marriages. Logan too, I'd write him small notes telling him where I'd be at night, a cheap 'Love Rory' tacked on the end. Now, before you rip this (my first letter to you) in half, I should tell you something. I always wanted to write to you. Something. Anything. I know, it sounds stupid, and until I tried to write to you the first time (I sat in a closet for hours with loose leaf and a flash light) I didn't think twice about it. But I couldn't do it.

Words are your thing. Sure, I'm a journalist, writing for my bread and butter, but you're Jess. You're an author now, you read more than I do, and I'm scared that my words won't be good enough for you. That I wont be good enough for you. You're probably shaking your head, but it's true. Without you I might be eating caviar and getting pissed every night of the week. Without you I might have had to marry Logan (what other choice would I have?).

You saved me. You saved me from my grandma's life outside Yale, but there's more than that. You saved me from my life in Stars Hollow, poster child for censorship, ice cream queen. You came and there was something more than watching Dean play sports (softball, baseball, football, clay pigeon shooting... I've really lost count) after school each day. You came along and brought the rest of the world with you. There was New York out there, more than the smiles and ballerinas of small town Connecticut. You brought danger, spontaneity, and my first indecent thoughts.

You brought me Hemingway.

I might have known about Hemingway before I met you. I might have even driveled through the first three chapters or so. A few weeks ago, however, I was in Washington with the other Obama reporters. We had a few days off and I went to a bookshop, you of all people know why, when I saw _Fiesta: The Sun Also Rises_. At first I wasn''t going to spare it a second glance, I don't need to read about trout fishing and bull fighting. But then I thought of you.

I don't think of you much. I need to point that out. I'm not pining for you, and I'd be perfectly fine without you. I don't need you, but I've come to terms with the fact that, just maybe, I want you. Don't think that came to me easily though, it took me days and days of deliberation. How does one admit that they might not be over some guy that screwed them around when they were a teenager? I doubt I will ever be completely over that, just so you know. But I still don't want to be the Brett to your Jake. I don't want to be the pretty thought of what could have been, running around with bullfighters and bankrupts. Not that I date many bullfighters, but that's not my point.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that, if I'm not too late, I think that we could have '_a damned good time together_', and I'll hope that you're not Jake.

-Rory.

--

She didn't send the letter.

She wasn't that surprised with herself to be honest. She had never expected to send it in the first place. It wasn't good enough, it never would be. She couldn't put her thoughts into words when it came to him. Perhaps, were she more creative, she would be able to write him a poem, a love song, or draw a picture. Unfortunately she was not creative (a trait people often assumed she had), but factual. She could write about events, add some flair and send it to her editor. Non-Fiction was her forte, stuff like: _Woke up at seven this morning, birds were singing, sun was shining. I had pop tarts for breakfast, they were stale. _She could do that fine, it was there, it happened. But writing about her thoughts, her future, her desires? She lacked that creative streak.

That was why she stood outside Truncheon, anticipating this moment since the Obama bus started it's ascent North towards Philly. She took a deep breath and straightened her blouse. She was much too formal, still in her reporter clothes.

She opened the door. Her hands were shaking.

The room was not quite as tidy as the last time she had been there on the open day, but it was still much neater than she ever remembered Jess being. Someone else must clean. She took in the books and art adorning the shop hungrily. This was Jess, he was here.

"Can I help you?"

She turned around to see Jess. He looked shocked upon recognition, but quickly recovered.

"Um, hi." she said.

"Hey." He was casual, as though he had been expecting her. He always looked unfazed. She could count on one hand the times he wasn't, they were some of the best and worst times they had together.

"So, uh, I finished Hemingway."

"Only took you seven years, what did you think?"

"I hate bullfights."

"_Death in the Afternoon_?"

"No, I read _The Sun Also Rises_."

"Ah."

There was an awkward silence, neither knew what to say.

"Why are you here, Rory?" he used the tone he saved for occasions like this (_You skipped school and everything. Are you still with Dean? Do you think we need a chaperon? You just invited one._)

Her eyes dart around the room, looking for some protection. She never could hide from him.

"So, I read Hemingway, right,"

"So you've said."

She ignored his interruption, "And it was exactly the same as before, I hated it, couldn't stand it. Then I got to the end and- and- I just... it was.."

"Come on Rory, spit it out already."

"I don't want to be Brett." She blurted.

"Oh." He said, nothing else.

"Yeah. And, well, I know it's stupid and probably too late. But I just thought that maybe things will be different this time around. Maybe I'm finally ready, I don't think I ever was before."

"I've given you chances before."

"I know."

"How do you know that I haven't moved on already? Do you think you can just stroll back into my life whenever you want and I'll just take you in?" he knows he would take her in happily every time, but she doesn't have to know that.

"No, I'm sorry. You're absolutely right. I shouldn't just- it was wrong of me. I'm so sorry, Jess. I didn't know-"

"Rory,"

"Of course you have somebody else, I was just in Philly, and then I'm here and I didn't even think-"

"Rory."

"What?" she had been backing closer towards the door.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Really?" She asked, skeptical.

"Yeah. Maybe things can be different this time."

She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

"Maybe one day I'll be able to write you a letter."

He doesn't have time to be confused by that statement, because before he has time to think, she's back in his arms. They never wanted to be anywhere else.

* * *

_**AN: **Thanks for reading. I'd love some feedback. I can't work on any of my longer stories at the moment because of a series of unfortunate events involving my computer getting completely wiped of everything including those files. I wrote this quickly on word pad and so my spelling is most likely horrid. Please bare with me. I want to continue my 'Living an Alias' as soon as possible, it's just not quite possible._

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	2. Sleep Therapy

Rory groaned at the high pitched beeping of her alarm clock. It had been just over a year since the day she came to Truncheon, six months since the campaign trail ended and she had been waking up in the bed she shared with Jess every morning. She was _exhausted_.

Rory turned off the alarm with a lazy flick of her arm and buried herself once more in their duvet. She loved that she could say that. _Their _duvet, _their _apartment, _their _love. That's what it was now. It was almost enough to make her smile. Yet she couldn't smile, but not because she was unhappy with their situation, for she was quite ecstatic. She almost certain that her trouble smiling was entirely to do with the dark blue bags under her eyes. It was impossible to smile when they were weighing her down. She was barely coherent enough to talk anymore.

Rory sighed deeply, using all her will power to avoid the temptation of the sand man. She pushed the blankets away from her and made her way towards the bedroom door looking like she was part of the Thriller cast. She could hear the sound of Jess cooking in the kitchen and so continued down the hall of their Philadelphia apartment in her zombie-like manner.

"'Morning." Jess greeted her as she entered the small kitchen.

"Mmphrg."

"Do you want some pancakes?"

"Mmhm. Moofree tbroo weez." she slurred sleepily.

"Sure thing." he shook his head in amusement and handed her an already prepared mug of coffee.

She smiled sleepily at him and savored a long sip. "Mmmm."

Jess turned back towards the stove and let her have a few moments to properly wake up. When he placed a stack of pancakes in front of her (maple syrup and berries -her favorite), she looked at him with the first signs of wakefulness of the morning.

"I hate you." she said.

Jess looked at his girlfriend in a concerned manner. It wasn't the nicest thing to hear first thing in the morning, and definitely not something he would expect from Rory who had been nothing but smiles since almost as long as he could remember.

"Why's that?" he asked, deciding to play it cool.

"So tired."

Jess smirked at that, having some idea of what could be the reasoning behind this. Although, thinking about it, her fatigue extended much beyond their bedroom activities. Jess had been waking up before her since they moved in together, something that seldom happened before.

"Don't smirk." she scolded, only causing his smirk to grow more. "I'm a serious Jess!"

"Ok, ok." he obliged, "What's up?"

"I'm tired."

"I've noticed."

"It's all your fault!" To this Jess let out a snort of laughter at the insinuation, quickly covered up by a cough. Rory blushed, "Not like _that_! I mean... yeah, but that... stuff, I can deal with. That's good... great even, but... Oh god. I wasn't even talking about _that_!"

Jess played innocent, "I have not idea what you're talking about."

Rory shook her head, beginning again, "What I meant was, I can't sleep in the same bed as you anymore."

"What?"

"I can't stand it! First it was the music, it's got to be blaring or you're rolling around restless until the early hours of the morning-"

"Hey, I got headphones for that!"

"Still, the tinny, distorted, drumming of Tool from the pillow next to me is annoying enough. Then, there's the snoring! It's like a chainsaw-phlegm hybrid!"

"I didn't know it was that bad." said Jess.

"I haven't had a good nights sleep in months!"

Jess was more disturbed by this news than he had expected to be. He liked having Rory around, loved it. He didn't want her to be suffering just sleeping next to him. "I'm sorry." he murmured, slightly defensive. "Why didn't you tell me to move to the couch or something? We could have dealt with it."

Rory shook her head, "I don't want you sleeping on the couch. I like being next to you, I don't want to give that up. I just want to get some sleep occasionally. I've fallen asleep at my desk twice this week."

Jess sighed, "What do you want me to do?"

Rory pulled the sleeves of her shirt over her fists, a tell-tale sign of nervousness. "I want you to see a sleep therapist."

"What?"

"I found a guy in the city, Dr Griffith, I've got his number if you want to call him. He sounds good, you just have to show up, talk to him a bit and then go from there. I promise you don't have to call him if you don't want to."

"But you want me to." Rory didn't say anything, prompting Jess to groan once more. "Fine, I'll go."

"Really?" Rory asked, grinning.

"Sure, where's the number?"

"Note pad by the fridge. Now, these look like some good pancakes."

--

_Two weeks later..._

"So, you met with Dr. Griffith today." Rory hinted as she sat down on the couch next to Jess. He was sipping a beer, 'This is Spinal Tap' playing on the TV. He invited her closer with a subtle jerk of his head and she folded herself into his body. "How'd it go?"

"Alright."

"Really," Rory said sarcastically, "you're blowing me away with these vivid descriptions."

Jess rolled his eyes, "We went, we talked-" the ringing of the phone cut him off, "-and the phone''s ringing. You gonna get that?"

"You're really not going to tell me about it?"

"I mean, I could get the phone if you want. You'll just need to let me up."

"Jess!" she whined.

"Phone."

"Fine." She relented, "I'll get the phone."

She shifted out of his embrace and made her way over to the white phone, picking it up and twisting the cord through her fingers. He'd noticed that it was a habit of hers.

"Hello?"

"..."

"Yes, that's me."

"..."

"Dr. Griffith?" The name caught Jess' attention.

"..."

"Um, yeah, that's right."

"..."

"Really." She sounded annoyed. Jess considered his options, fight or flight? Fight or flight.

"Alright. I appreciate your call. Thanks, bye."

Fight it was then.

"Jess?" That was her stern voice, he turned his head to meet her eyes, trying to remain innocent looking.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"So that was Dr. Griffith on the phone." she began, "He had a lot more to say than you did about your meeting with him today. Very interesting stuff, actually."

"Really? Huh."

"Jess! He thinks that you're a threat to society!"

"Don't they all." He wasn't hostile, but rather teasing.

"Well yeah, especially when you told him all about these psychotic dreams you've been having." Jess shrugged, she started to look nervous, "You don't actually have dreams like that do you? He was pretty graphic."

Jess grinned, "What can I say, we really talked."

"He said that you showed signs of possible schizophrenia and manic depression. He thinks you could wake up one night and smother me in my sleep -he mentioned bondage for gods sake!"

Jess's grin grew.

"How can you find this funny?"

"Come on Rory, it's a little funny."

Rory frowned, but the absurdness of the situation was too much for her and she let a small smile slip through.

"Aha, you thought it was funny. Now come sit with me. He's talking about the amps that go up to eleven." Jess pointed towards the TV. Rory relented, collapsing next to him. Her head rested against his shoulder as he pulled her against him.

"I just hoped that he might fix something." Rory confessed.

"Don't worry Rory, I'll deal with it."

--

_That night..._

Jess lay in bed reading a book as he waited for Rory to finish in the bathroom and come join him. As he heard her soft footsteps, he put his novel down and faced her. "You coming?"

Rory looked at the bed hesitantly, "You sure I shouldn't sleep on the couch or something."

Jess shook his head, "Don't you dare."

"What about your music?"

"Don't need it."

"How will you get to sleep?"

Jess rolled his eyes, "Just work with me here Rory."

"Ok." she said, and climbed in the opposite side of the bed.

Jess sighed, "This isn't going to work."

"You're right." Rory said, beginning to get up, "I should go somewhere else."

"Not that. You. All the way over there. Come closer." she nodded faintly and shifted closer to him until they were inches apart. Facing each other, her hands rested against his chest as his wrapped over her body. "This is much better." he whispered against her skin.

She giggled, neither making a move to further things as they held each other close. She drifted off to sleep within minutes, a smile on her face.

He stayed awake longer, watching her, listening to her breaths and feeling her skin against his. He felt anxious, his habits broken. His craving for the familiar music he slept to was like that of the cigarette years ago. He had quit smoking for Rory, she hadn't liked it. Surely he could quit this habit too. Breathing in her scent with a certain finality, he too drifted off to sleep. Having Rory sleep against him like this was different, good. They had spooned before, but were not often this intimate. He held her tightly in his sleep like a beloved soft toy. From his new position, he didn't snore half as much.

Sometimes his snoring would return, though it rarely woke Rory anymore. From then on, any exhaustion in the mornings was from an entirely different matter.

--

_**AN: **__I'm loving the one-shots recently. Decided to tack this onto this story rather than make another. There might be more to come, I'm not sure. This was an idea I've been playing with for a while, and it turned out very differently from what I expected. Not very sappy or anything, but I might get the urge to do that later. Jess' sleeping pattern caught my attention on Gilmore Girls, and what can I say, I'm a sucker for small things. Still no spell check so I apologize in advance.  
_

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